Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I was right,” Owen said. “The crew that tried to grab you was second-tier talent. Make that third-tier. We’re talking amateur hour.”
Alice leaned closer to watch him scroll through the files on Sykes’s phone. “How can you tell?”
She and Owen were sitting at the table. The waiter had returned a short time ago to remove the breakfast tray. Sebastian was napping on the bed, evidently worn out from the late-night partying and the morning swim.
Owen had used his fancy lockpick to open Sykes’s phone.
They were now exploring the contents. A significant number of links went to various chat rooms that focused on claims of brilliantly executed and extremely shady security operations—most of which Owen had declared either wildly exaggerated or entirely fictitious.
“An effort to impress each other and potential clients,” he explained.
She told herself she welcomed the return to the serious work of their investigation.
It was so much safer and more straightforward than trying to establish the boundaries of their relationship.
The sex had infused the situation with new risks; at least it had for her.
It was unnerving because she could not get a read on Owen.
Yes, he was physically attracted to her, and she was sure there was a bond of some kind between them that went beyond the sexual connection.
But was this the start of a loving, lasting relationship?
Maybe she really was naive.
Hey, at least he’s not trying to use you for research the way Randolph Draper did, and he doesn’t appear to be after your inheritance. Take the win.
“The main reason I don’t think the bunch we ran into yesterday was in the same league as the crew that tried to kidnap you at the hotel is because yesterday’s operation was not well coordinated,” Owen said.
“In fairness, they didn’t have a lot of time to put a plan together,” she pointed out.
“True, but it’s more than that. I don’t think that crew had worked together very often, if at all. Also, there wasn’t much in the way of a backup plan. Looking at the files of some of Sykes’s clients, it’s safe to say I’m right.”
“I’m not doubting you, I’m just curious to know how you came to that conclusion.”
“Simple. I followed the money.”
“Meaning?”
“Sykes works cheap. He’s a one-man operation. Judging by his browsing history, when he lands a job, he visits a couple of different ex-Guild chat rooms to recruit whatever talent he can find. That tells me he’s a long way from being the leader of a company of professional mercenaries.”
She thought about that. “I see where you’re going with this. The kidnapping at the hotel was well planned and coordinated.”
“Elaborately so, and with a lot of moving parts,” he said.
“Twitchell covered everything, from falsifying the record of reservations on the hotel computer to putting his own people in place on the ground. There was even an emergency backup plan—the hallucinogenic vapor. The kidnappers had their own gas masks.”
“Don’t remind me.” She sank back in her chair. “It all would have worked beautifully if it hadn’t been for you.”
“I wasn’t the only wild card that night.” Owen glanced up from the phone. “Don’t forget the dead man in the shower. I doubt that Twitchell’s plans included Carl Voyle.”
“So they murdered him. They would have killed you, too, if they’d had a chance.”
“Probably, but that’s not the point. I’m sure Twitchell is a high-rez strat talent, and they are notorious for meticulous planning. They prefer to work with pros. Yesterday’s effort was not a professional job.”
Alice spread her hands. “Twitchell was working in what, for him, was an unfamiliar environment. You said yourself that the local power brokers don’t welcome outsiders. Twitchell had to work with the talent that was available. He didn’t have the option of preparing a finely tuned kidnapping.”
“True.” Owen contemplated the screen of the phone for a moment. “But he must have been truly desperate if he hired Sykes.”
She sat forward. “Speaking of which, does Sykes have a file on his client?”
“Yes. I’m opening it now.” Owen concentrated on the screen. “The client used a code name. YourWorstNightmare.”
“Definitely not the subtle type.”
“There’s no contact info, but the payment details are straightforward. Half up front, half when the job is successfully completed.” Owen shook his head. “I knew it. Sykes works cheap. Judging by what he charged YourWorstNightmare, he’s very small-time.”
“Where are you going with this?”
Owen gazed into the phone as if it were an oracle glass.
When he looked up again, there was a familiar heat in his eyes.
It wasn’t the kind of energy that had illuminated his gaze last night, when they’d had resonant sex.
It looked more like the dangerous burn she had seen yesterday, when he had gone into combat with the would-be kidnappers.
“There’s another player in this game,” Owen said. “Someone who wants you as badly as Kelbrook and Twitchell do.”